Mozart continues to be 'unwrapped' at Kings
Place. I confess that I no more understand the
designation than I did before - or than I did for Beethoven and Chopin - but
more importantly, this exploration of sacred and other music for Salzburg
offered a delightful evening. The Choir of King's College under Stephen
Cleobury made a welcome debut at the festival, joined by the Dante Quartet and
other instrumentalists.

At the heart of the programme stood two missae breves. KV 275/272b,
in B-flat major, opened the concert. The unassuming nature of the performance
put me in mind of the delightful St John's recordings of Haydn and Mozart
under George Guest. (Cleobury was one of the Guest era's numerous organ
scholars.) That said, the sounds of King's and John's remain distinct: the
former 'whiter', more 'English', the latter more 'Continental' in timbre.
King's, however, had been joined by a notably fruity tenor, especially
prominent when intoning 'Credo in unum Deum'. After the Credo, a
little echo reminded me of its big brother in King's Chapel itself, but the
new location of Hall One, Kings Place, could otherwise hardly stand more
distinct from the choir's home. There were, then, no musical - or rather
anti-musical - shock tactics; instead, straightforward musical virtues, such
as clarity of line and diction, cleanness of counterpoint, and a decent
affection for Mozart's setting, were to the fore. The Sanctus sounded
nicely but never pedantically 'constructed'; structure is always central,
indeed crucial, to Mozart performance. Boys' voices had a particular
opportunity to shine, well taken, in the Benedictus. And the lovingly
extended 'Dona nobis pacem' music sounded every bit as catchy as it should be.

The rest of the first half was devoted to the First Lodron Night-Music.
Three members of the Dante quartet and double bass were now joined by the
remaining quartet member (viola) and two horns. This equally delightful
divertimento received a performance that was sharp yet warm, and eminently
cultivated, its first movement inflections effortlessly 'natural':
characteristics that ought to go without saying in Mozart performance, yet are
frequently notable only by their absence. Inner movements proved elegantly
turned indeed, yet each possessed its own particular character, whether the
ravishing horn beauties of the third or the joy of the inner parts' interplay
during the fourth. The latter's minor-mode material provided dignified pathos,
without exaggeration, whilst the pizzicato lines of the fifth movement were
simply delightful. Mozart's finale proved as cheekily catchy as the 'Dona'
music from the Mass, all the more so on account of the players' resisting any
temptation heedlessly to rush.

For the second half, the Missa brevis in F major, KV 192/186f, was
presented semi-liturgically. That is, to say, there was no celebration of the
Mass, but accompanying music was provided, from the introductory Gradual to
Gregorian Chant - 'Beata viscera Mariae Virginis, quae portaverunt aeterni
Patris Filium. Alleluia' - which led straight into the Agnus Dei.
South German Rococo joy was present, yet never overdone, in the opening
Sancta Maria, KV 273: in Mozart, less so often proves more. Once again,
musical structure was admirably clear. The Kyrie imparted an apt
sense of earlier-century Neapolitan sacred music, its delights heightened once
again by admirably cultivated string playing. The Viennese style of Caldara,
and still more Fux, came effortlessly to the foreground in the Gloria.
It was a joy to hear the chamber organ (Ben-San Lau) for one of those glorious
Epistle Sonatas that we seemingly never have the opportunity to hear. (If only
they could be programmed every time in place of, say, a Vivaldi concerto!) The
Credo'sforeshadowing of the triumph of the 'Jupiter'
Symphony's finale - its quintessentially Fuxian contrapuntal tag, C-D-F-E,
here of course in F major, so F-G-B flat-A - was all the more welcome for
being simply presented rather than hammered home. Alma Dei creatoris,
the offertory hymn, was distinguished by a radiantly imploring treble line:
how could the Mother of God decline to intercede? The censer - albeit English
rather than full-bloodedly Austrian Baroque - was almost rendered visible in
the jubilant 'Osanna'.

I look forward to the second instalment on 12th
October, when the Second London Night-Music
will join two further missae breves, in G major, KV 140 and D major,
KV 194/186h - the latter interspersed with further Gregorian chant -
the D major Church Sonata, KV 245, the Offertorium, Venite populi, KV
260, and that ineffably sublime late motet, Ave verum corpus, KV 618.
For further details concerning 'Mozart Unwrapped', click
here.
Mark Berry